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  • #1163

    Day of the Dead soon, Leo, might be a good day to go through that door” Bea said.

    “Well that’s the day that Baked Bean Barb is coming round with that book she found, Bea” replied Leonora.

    “She can come with us, the more the merrier eh! We could have a bit of a party you know, maybe have a bonfire on the top of the mound and then go through the door, might be fun.”

    “It’s all very well you saying we’ll just go through the door, Bea, but it’s not that easy.”

    “Why not?”

    “Because it isn’t a door, that’s why! It’s a pile of boulders blocking a cave entrance!”

    “All the more reason to invite lots of people to the party then! It will be a boulder moving out of the way of the door party, and when the door way is clear, we can all go through it. Aren’t you dying of curiosity to see what’s inside that mound?”

    “Yeah, I am. And we have to do it soon, because Jose will be back and then we’ll have to move. Might not be so easy then. Ok, let’s go for it. I’ll make a list who to invite.”

    “Some nice big strong strapping lads is what we need.”

    “No kidding”

    “To move the boulders, I meant” Bea said, rolling her eyes.

    #1162
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Rneyl ba na Bpgbore zbeavat. Gurer vf gur cebzvfr bs urng va gur fxl ohg sbe abj rirelguvat vf pbby naq fgvyy. Fur bcraf gur onpx qbbe bs gur pbggntr naq naq fvgf qbja pnershyyl ba gur jbbqra fgrc. Ure obql uhegf sebz gur avtug.

      V xvyy guvatf, fur guvaxf, fheirlvat gur qel oebja cynagf va gur fznyy tneqra fur unq gevrq gb perngr.

      Fur jbaqref vs gurer vf fbzrguvat gung jnagf gb pbzr gb yvsr vafvqr bs ure, gura uvqrf sebz gur gubhtug. Abg orpnhfr fur qbrf abg jnag vg, ohg orpnhfr fur vf nsenvq. Fur qbrf abg xabj ubj gb oevat guvf guvat gb yvsr. Gur fueviryyrq cynagf orne funec grfgvzbal gb ure snvyher…

      [ encoded in ROT13 ]

      “What is that?” she asks. “It doesn’t come from The Book, does it?”
      “Well, our best team of psychic archaeologists just got it retrieved from purported old discarded bits in the Crypt.”
      “of…? You mean… apocryphal part of The Book? Are you serious?”
      “Quite possible, you see. Do you know what’s the ancient meaning behind that word ‘apocryphal’?”
      “You tell me.”
      ‘those having been hidden away’… But the intricacy of this reality makes it possible for us, in the future of The Book, to re-insert it directly into the past.”
      “So they’re no longer ‘apocryphal’…”
      “You could look them up actually, and perhaps you’ll find even the part where they’re speaking about us finding it even…”

      :fleuron:

      — Aaaaalbert! You’re not ferreting again in my old discarded files, are you?
      — Err… No, of course not Tina.

      Al quickly changed the view on the cyputer and added with a hint of malice in his voice “You don’t have anything to hide from me anyway, isn’t it?”
      “Don’t be silly Al, and you’d better prepare yourself. We’ll be late for the big Hallowe’en party at the Father Chase Memorial Garden. Becky’s supposed to make an apparition at the party, remember.”
      “Becky? You mean… The Becky?”
      “Yeah… You’re so absent-minded sometimes sweetie, good thing you got me, Sumafi as you are. Yes, that old twaddle-speaking silly exotic Becky, the one and unique!”

      #1159

      “You tempestuous fool” Becky cried and slapped Gayesh soundly across the face. “Don’t give me those unspoken looks!”

      Gayesh sighed. “Ah, the infinite pleasure I had in mind is naught but an elusive dream.”

      Elizabeth read the last two lines she’d been working on to her publisher, Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

      Godfrey snorted. “Elizabeth, really! You jest, I hope.”

      “Well, I was just trying to fit each of the four themes into one chapter, they all seemed to fit together so easily” Elizabeth replied. “Why not? Tempestuous, Elusive Dreams, Unspoken Looks, and Pleasure”

      “You seemed to have fit them all into two sentences, never mind a chapter. And your characters sound like characters in a play.”

      “Well they are characters in a play, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth.

      “Ham actors, that’s what I meant. Anyway, Liz” Pig-Littleton said with a slightly mischievous grin, “What if Gayesh doesn’t want his face slapped by Becky?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “What if Becky doesn’t want to slap Gayesh?”

      “Well, she will if I write it into the play, surely!” Elizabeth started to frown. She knew that once she invented her characters that they continued to exist in a reality of their own, being free to create their own realities in whatever probable dimension they found themselves in, but she had never really stopped to think about the ramifications of her continuing to write incidents into their lives.

      “Maybe Becky has moved on from where you left her last time you wrote about her, in a completely different direction” Godfrey continued “And maybe she doesn’t want to play along with your theme word game. I mean really, is it fair to make her? Maybe she was having more fun doing whatever it was she was doing while you weren’t even thinking about what she should do. Quite rude really to interrupt her just so that you could do your word theme games. Bit of a cheek, I’d say.”

      “Oh Godfrey, that’s easily explained” Elizabeth had remembered Probabilities, which was always a handy excuse in continuity disputes. “Another probable character will do what I write for them to do, there are probably hundreds of probable characters now, all going in different directions.”

      “Is that wise? Really Elizabeth, that sounds outrageously irresponsible. Hundreds of probable characters running amok, and you have absolutely no idea what they’re all getting up to.”

      “Well they’re not my responsibility Godfrey, for heavens sake!”

      “Well if they’re not your responsibility, then who’s responsible for them?”

      “Nobody is responsible for them!”

      “Well that sounds like a recipe for chaos if you ask me” Godfrey said with a sniff. “You’ve unleashed hundreds of probable Becky’s into reality, not to mention Leo’s and Bea’s….”

      “And Pig-Littleton’s” Elizabeth interjected under her breath.

      “… and Sanso’s and Dory’s” Godfrey, who hadn’t heard Elizabeth, continued to reel off the characters names. “I mean how big do you think reality is? The rate you’re filling it up with probable characters there’ll be no space left!”

      Elizabeth started to laugh. “Oh Godfrey, you’re a case. Ahahah! They don’t take up any space at all! Anyway, Godfrey” Elizabeth turned back to her notepad. “Listen to the latest chapter and tell me what you think:

      “You tempestuous fool” Becky cried and slapped Gayesh soundly across the face. “Don’t give me those unspoken looks!”

      Gayesh sighed. “Ah, the infinite pleasure I had in mind is naught but an elusive dream.”

      Godfrey Pig-Littleton was impressed. “Elizabeth, how perfectly you incorporated the four themes into one brilliantly short chapter”

      Elizabeth closed her notebook with a satisfied smile and yawned. Let them all do whatever the bloody hell they all want to, I’m off to bed. Plenty of probable characters available in the morning, waiting in the wings.

      #1156

      “Hey, Leo, look at this here in the newspaper ~ my book’s being made into a movie!”

      “What book’s that then, Bea? Not that dreadful ‘T’eggy Gets a Good Rogering’, surely.” Leonora replied dismissively.

      “Oh they’re not calling it that for the movie…..”

      “Bloody good job if you ask me” Leo interrupted, and then exclaimed “OH!”

      “What?”

      “Book sync!”

      “Book sync? What book sync?”

      “I forgot to tell you, Baked Bean Barb called…”

      “Who?!”

      “You remember, we met her in that bar down on the coast awhile back, remember? We got talking over a few tapas ~ found we had some mutual friends back home and all…”

      “Funny how that happens, eh ~ small world, innit? So what did she call for then?”

      “Well, it’s the funniest thing, she said when she was rummaging around on the rubbish tip….”

      “Oh now I remember, you mean Baked Bean Barb! The one that’s lived in her Ford Fiesta for 15 years, and finds food in dustbins? That one? On the run, wasn’t she?”

      “That’s the one! On the run for 30 years because of that Baked Bean Incident that was in all the papers”

      “You meet all sorts down here, eh. So what did she call for?”

      “Well” continued Leonora “It’s the strangest thing! She said she found a book on the rubbish tip, which was in English, so she says she took the book ~ she reads alot you know, Barb does, even though she’s only got one eye. Dunno how she manages it really, her glasses are always so dirty…”

      “Will you get to the point?”

      “Hang on, hang on, I’m getting there….she found this book, right, so she goes back to wherever she’s camped up, you know, with the other travellers, all them old hippies on their way to Morocco for the winter I expect….”

      “We should go with them next winter Leo, might be fun”

      “I reckon it would Bea ~ well with Jose coming back soon from that island, we’ll have to go somewhere ~ anyway, as I was saying, Barb starts reading this book, she says it’s the most peculiar book she’s ever read, never read anything like it, she says, but she can’t put it down she says ~ well, you’ll never guess what!”

      “I can’t guess, Leo, I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

      “Barb says we’re in the book!”

      “What do you mean, we’re in the book?”

      “We’re in the book! ‘Leonora and Beattie’ are in the book! Renting a finca from a ‘Jose’ and living in the mountains in Andalucia!”

      “You’re having me on!” exclaimed Bea. “I’ve gotta see this to believe it.”

      #1154

      “Wow, it’s big…” Theresa was raptured by the sheer size of it. “I’m not sure I can maneuver it on my own…”

      “Yep. A shame the bloddy rabbits ate half of it…” Phlynn answered nonplussed.

      “Oh, it’s still the biggest butternut squash I’ve seen in a while… We shall have it for dinner.”

      #1153

      “Don’t you think time is ripe, Ratirat?” Angela asked, turning to her friend Seth, the brown furred mouse.
      “None of us are ever equipped, for general purposes, to perceive reality in all of its forms.” Seth started in a squeaky voice.

      “That’s interesting” nodded Angela, though she would have been in trouble had anyone asked her to explain what she just heard.

      Seth continued in his unnerving high-pitched voice “The pyramid gestalts can do this, and we help the pyramid gestalts perform this feat.”

      “I second that” said Freako the black and white ferret.
      “Bloody good point!” Weirdy, the damsel weasel managed to say among the growing cacophony.

      “Don’t be zilly… I don’t zink people outzide of this zoo are ready for us” snapped Joppy the baby pygmy hippo.

      “Zwines!” grumbled Angela, innocently mocking Jobby’s strange accent.

      #1152

      Angela Wing was getting impatient. It had taken the fat white goose many months to reach a state of impatience, being such an accepting sort of creature, but really, she was wondering if she would ever have even so much as a walk in part in the Reality Play. Sure, she was a player behind the scenes, often appearing in the dreams of the players, but heck, a little bit of limelight would be nice occasionally.

      She preened her brilliant white feathers, thinking how well they would show up under the lights, as it were. It was all very well lurking in the shadows of the ill remembered dreams all the time, but Angela felt the time was ripe for more exposure.

      :fleuron:

      Becky yawned. Where on earth did that come from? she wondered, as she tried to rouse herself from her long nap. I wasn’t even dreaming about Angela Wing! All I can remember dreaming about is a book cover, something to do with eights…

      #1150

      Dory was often reminding herself (and anyone within hearing or blogging distance in the process) of one of her favourite catch-phrases: what you are looking for is probably right under your nose.
      It seemed of particular relevance these days, Yurick was noticing, for a variety of reasons.

      First, his glasses needed some dusting… He’d have to finish that monologue later then.

      :fleuron:

      What was he about then? Yes. The tillandsias near the window. Last week-end, they’d been to a crystal store with Yann, and mildly interested by crystals, Yurick had been wondering loudly at the heaps of strange plants in the middle of the paraphernalia of rocks, shells and starfishes. The store owner had proceeded to explain those were aerial plants, known for gathering the elements of their sustenance out of the air.
      The curiosity would probably have ended with those quick answers, had the guy not not given them on an impulse two little specimens just when they were about to go with Yann’s newly acquired amethysts.
      :raw-crystal:

      Cute. New plants to interact with. Yurick had to say he preferred plants to rocks. Yann for his part had found them funny names. “Sha” for the witchy hairy one, and “Glo” for the pineapple-looking one. Why not…

      The tilland… Well, “Sha” and “Glo” (you had to give credit to Yann for granting the reader a good respite from long unpleasant names) had been there in the bathroom for a few days, and only now had Yurick found some interest in investigating more about them.
      The capacity they had to live apparently without any strings attached was very appealing to him, and it was like a symbol of focusing on one’s own vitality, and finding the means to live out of that elusive “new energy”; of not feeding off something outside of self.

      Now, he was finding even more interesting facts; a picture that Yann had taken of a blooming plant recently was of the same genus of plants, and it reminded Yurick of plants which had fascinated him in a botanical garden, that were also from this species.
      Interestingly, he found out that the plants were named after a Finnish botanist (Elias Tillandz )… He couldn’t help but notice the similarities with another focus of his: Elias Lönnrot.

      The string of clues suddenly filling up the previously empty corridors of his mind were sparkling a renewed interest for focus hunting.

      #1151
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Tina leaned back on her rocking chair, and ogled with an eye of pity Al who was trimming one of the plants.

        What?
        Oh nothing, Tina sighed… are we gonna eat any fruit from those, or shall I throw them in the bin?
        Oh, there’s good hope we can soon have a cherry tomato wrapped in a leaf of coriander for our dinner sweetie.
        You and your miniature cultures… She finally rolled her eyes. During Al’s trip in the Floridisles, by a strange series of nearly miraculous coincidences, the plants had stayed intact. She hadn’t watered them for the two weeks, but apparently it had not displeased them.

        Al had told her the funny story of his grand-father watering his wife’s precious flowers during her absence with gallons of water, and literally drowning them in love.
        She had not smiled. “Maybe I’m drowning people in my love too, they tend to get soggy these days…”
        So perhaps her lack of attention had been a blessing for the tinsy artsy plantsaïs

        What did they have for dinner last time? A puny ratatouille made with courgettes the size of her fingers. First time she’d wished she had bigger fingers. Nah… Al, you got to understand, people aren’t ready for nano-biotics…

        #1148
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          The whole week had been flying over his heads. Last Sunday, they had come back with Sam from their trip on the Floridisles, and though his body was a bit aching from the trip on the still young flight company of Yurailli Airlines, Al’s head was still swimming in the clear blue waters with the dolphins and sea dragons a soft music running in his head like a young unworried boy on the shore.

          The return to New Venice was such a difference in energy that it took him a shocking cold to re-adapt. Not that he couldn’t have done without the cold, but he had chosen to allow it, for many reasons. For one, it was very self-centering, and also the more he allowed it, contrary to what people would think, the quicker it healed.

          Lots of things had happened in New Venice during their little adventure in the South, and there was lots to do to keep the pace. So much difference with the peaceful silent world of the cetaceans… Not even much time to update the Reality Play which almost had gone into hibernating mode, had it not been Becky’s occasional funny entries and syncs.

          Nevertheless, Al could feel that the peace of the dolphins and sea dragons had touched him on more than just the surface level. For once, he wasn’t even worried about Tina now; he could feel her discrete but present energy was strong, even though she was going onto a difficult transitional path of her own.

          #1147

          :multimedia:
          “Norm! NORM!!” Sue Flay shouted. “We’re filming the garden scene now, where are you?”

          But Norm was nowhere to be found. He’d stumbled upon an unexpected problem while filming T’Eggy & Phlynn with Sue Flay ~ a problem too embarrassing to mention, and one he could hardly keep a secret, given the nature of the P Movie. He’d managed to excuse himself during the last scene, feigning illness, but what if it happened again today?

          “You’re focusing on what you don’t want again, Norm.” The voice made him jump. He’d thought he was alone in the treehouse, he thought no-one would find him hiding there in the leafy depths of the spinney, high up in the foliage. He looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.

          “You haven’t generated me physical, Norm, but you can if you wish” the voice said.

          “How do I do that?” asked Norm.

          “Allow, that’s all” the voice replied.

          “Oh what rubbish!” Norm said in an agitated whisper. “What stupid advice!”

          “Ha ha ha! As you wish, my friend” replied the voice, sounding rather amused.

          “If you hadn’t just given me such stupid advice I might have felt more inclined to ask you for some advice about this awful problem” Norm whispered crossly.

          “Are you asking me for advice or not?”

          “Well if you’ve got anything USEFUL to say, then say it!”

          “If you go down to the garden today,
          You’re sure to have a surprise.
          There’s a herb growing there and you don’t have to pay,
          It’s growing in front of your eyes.
          The magic you see is everywhere
          It never runs out of stock
          Go down to the garden, if you dare….”

          “I asked you for advice, not a daft bloody poem!” Norm hissed.

          “You wish to be hard as a rock?”

          YES!” spat Norm in frustration, blushing furiously. What’s the friggen garden got to do with it?”

          “There’s a herb in the garden called Horny Goat

          “Oh PulEASE…..” Norm rolled his eyes.

          “Horny Goat Weed will do the trick.
          And straighten up your droopy…”

          ENOUGH! Good Grief, I get the message. What am I supposed to DO with it, roll in it? Eat it? Smoke it?”

          “It matters not, my friend. That’s the magic of it all. You can choose any method”

          “Are you sure about this?” asked Norm, who was willing to try anything at this point. “How do I know I can trust you?”

          “Ha ha ha! Trust youSELF, Norm!”

          “Who are you anyway?” Norm asked suspiciously.

          But the voice chuckled and faded, leaving Norm in a quandary in the treehouse.

          “Oh bugger it, I may as well give it a go. I can’t stay here forever, and anyway, I’ve run out of cigarettes.”

          Norm climbed down the tree and marched over to the the film crew.

          “Oh THERE you are Norm!” Sue came rushing up to him. “What perfect timing, we’re breaking for lunch.” She gave Norm a spontaneous hug. She really was rather nice, Norm thought, smiling at her.

          “Would you like some soup? We put lots of fresh herbs in it from the garden.”

          #1146

          “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

          “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

          “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

          “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

          “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

          Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

          Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

          “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

          Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

          “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

          Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

          I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
          and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
          The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
          Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
          in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
          but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

          “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

          Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
          I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
          Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
          but I carried on anyway.

          “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

           It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
          (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
          of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
          fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
          a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
          onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
          was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

          “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

          “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

          A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
          going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
          the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

          “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

          Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

          “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

          I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

          “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

          “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

          I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
          was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
          and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
          and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
          Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
          curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
          knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
          when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
          and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
          the same place, clutching the banister.

          “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

          “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

          “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

          “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

          Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

          “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

          Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

          “Pffft” said Bea.

          “More coffee?”

          #1145

          “Listen to this, Bea” Leonora said.

          Bea looked up from her book “What’s that then Leo? I’m just getting to the juicy part where T’eggy gets….”

          “Listen to this” Leo interrupted, and read from the book she was reading, “As a writer I feel free to do anything I please, investigating anything, saying anything…..as a writer I feel free to be psychic as a bird, do what I please and use my abilities psychically quite freely. When I think of me as a psychic I get hung up because I seem to be in the company of so many nuts. Writers may be as nuts as anyone else but it’s a nuttiness that doesn’t bug me ~ there’s no dogma attached…..”

          “What on earth are you reading, Leo?”

          “The memoirs of Jane Roberts” replied Leonora. “What a coincidence this is! I was just starting to think about writing some fiction, you know? Because when you write fiction nobody really questions what you write, it’s easier, somehow.”

          “Well if it’s fiction you’re after, I can recommend T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering, it’s brilliant.” replied Bea helpfully.

          “Bloody hell, Bea!” said Leonora in exasperation. “I want to write tasteful enlightening fiction, wonderful stories with a moral and a point and a lesson ~ I don’t want to read the trash you read!”

          “Suit yourself, you judgmental cow” replied Bea huffily. “And anyway, you haven’t even read it, so how would you know?”

          #1144
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Chuckling to herself about Sam’s latest entry (which was another splendid synchronicity with the daily random quote: “Just as Becky was retorting crossly to Al to please knock before remote viewing her…”) Becky Tooh went outside into the sunshine to hang out the laundry. Blinking in the strong sunlight she reached up to peg a towel on the line and noticed two huge eagles circling above her. I swear they are looking right at me, she said. She watched them circling until her eyes could stand the glare of the sun no longer, then turned back to the laundry basket.

            Oh will you look at that! she said crossly. Bird pooh all over the washing!

            #1142

            “I had an absolutely brilliant revelation last night” Bea was saying “about The Door. Buggered if I can remember what it was, though.”

            “Well fat lot of use that is then, Bea” replied Leonora. “Any snapshots? Can you remember anything at all?”

            “Well, there was a big pale green patch that floated down, then there was the floating part, oh and all the coloured light flashes…the French girl, the old fashioned scene…..and that weird change of focus, sort of off centre and a bit out of body, with the guy behind my right shoulder shouting HEY every time my focus started drifting back to normal. Oh, and the spiraling part, that was cool too!” Bea was starting to drift off into another world just thinking about it.

            “Yes, well, now we know all about The Door” said Leonora sarcastically. “Very helpful, Bea, well done.”

            “That’s it!” shouted Bea, leaning forward in excitement. “It’s about blocking energy!”

            Leonora rolled her eyes.

            “Holding tightly to energy, that’s what the closed door is. I can have an open door, and still be free to create who walks through it. We don’t lock the door here, do we, but we don’t get any intruders.”

            “Maybe that’s because we’ve got nine dogs” said Leo. “And anyway, define intruder, in a ‘you create your own reality’ context. What’s the difference between an intruder, and a wonderful surprise?”

            Bea was stumped for a moment. “That’s a good question, Leo, we’ll come back to that in a bit, but let me finish telling you this before I forget again.
            I used to mentally open a big double door every time I did a meditation or went to sleep” Bea continued “and I havent opened that door in months. Well, sometimes it’s open, obviously, but I dont seem to throw the doors open wide anymore, you know, to other energies objectively, if you see what I mean.”

            Bea was starting to ramble. “I used to invite any Tom, Dick and Harry to my meditations as long as they weren’t aliens.”

            “What about the dogs in raincoats dimension?” asked Leo “What were they if they weren’t aliens?”

            “Oh, they were alright, I liked them. Oh you know what I’m like about that other dimensional stuff, don’t get me started on that now. I think occasionally things happen and I get rattled, and shut the door for a bit.”

            “Right, so let see if I’ve got this straight” said Leonora “There’s more than one layer to this Door thing because what you’ve just told me is what’s going on in your reality. The question is, what’s going on in mine?”

            “Buggered if I know, Leo” Bea replied. “Fancy a cuppa?”

            #2028

            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Indeed Jib, as usual, as usual:

              Follow THE call OF THE WILDE,
              THAT WHICH especially ASK YOU TO hold STILL AT home.
              YOU KNOW, IT DOESN’T TAKE lots OF walking
              TO let YOUR arms HAVE SOME EXERCISING:
              SOME WOULD SAYperhaps”;
              BUT NO NEED TO SAY “I knew THAT!”

              LET’S EXPLORE A stone idea:
              OF dragons starting watermelons story, flying AROUND
              AND smiling, DIVING IN THE flove

              #1140
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                “Well, what ARE you going to do about the door”, Tina asked Becky.

                “Hell if I know, Tina! Have you got any ideas?”

                Tina shook her head. “Maybe Al or Sam will come up with something. Just leave the thread hanging for months, why don’t you, that’s what you usually do.”

                Becky laughed. “Al keeps reminding me about it for some reason, you know what he’s like.”

                “Well, here’s an idea: Let the characters decide for themselves what happens next. Don’t plan it, just watch it, and report back, you know what I mean?” Tina suggested.

                “Hey there’s an idea! Good thinking, Batwoman!” Becky said, hugging Tina. Then she grinned. “Isn’t that what’s been happening all along?”

                #1136
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The interior of the Fly-boat was a bit like a Tardis, in that it was very much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, and quite a different shape, too. While the exterior of the fly-boat resembled a cross between a duck and a bee, the interior was circular. There was a high point in the centre of the ceiling, and richly embroidered tapestries draping down to the floor in sumptuous folds, looking for all the world like a yurt.

                  Yukailli Airlines has a decidedly exotic and oriental air, Dory thought as she perused the in flight magazine, which was written in a charming but indecipherable script resembling the Voynich Papers.

                  “This is your captain speaking” a disembodied voice boomed. “Welcome aboard! My name is Ignoratio Elenchi, and I trust that you will have a most enjoyable flight with Yukailli AirBoats. There will be no obligation to fasten your seatbelts and you may smoke all through the flight. Our cabin crew will be preparing Vedic Stew over an open fire in the central area of the craft at 11:11. For your in-flight entertainment, up on the open air flight deck there will be a continuous light show by Aurora Borealis. If you want us to stop the flyboat at any point to take snapshots” continued Ignoratio, “Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

                  #1135

                  — “Dory?”
                  — “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
                  — “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
                  — “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
                  — “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”

                  “There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
                  Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.

                  — “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
                  — “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
                  — “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.

                  “Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”

                  If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!

                  Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
                  Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…

                  “Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”

                  After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.

                  — “Ain’t them beautiful?”
                  — “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
                  — “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.

                  In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.

                  — “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.

                  #1134

                  Georges and Salome’s journal

                  From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 1)

                  Georges being involved more and more within the Quorum of Jokans, it has enabled me, if only by proxy, to get more acquainted with the personality of each of them.
                  The Guardians are an ancient and very distinctive race which is, in many aspects, surprisingly similar to our Dream Walkers. One of these points of similarity is their aptitude at morphing their environment, and altering much of the physical properties of it within their dimension of operation.
                  I suspect that, similarly to our Dream Walkers being responsible for the creation of physical focus as we currently experiment it in our Earth dimension, they are also for a great part responsible for the creation of many a species in the neighbouring noospheres —note that I shall occasionally use “Noosphere” as a word more apt to convey certain notions rather than the word “planet” which is loaded with certain beliefs.

                  I will not enter into the social details of the race of the Guardians in this note, as it would be too long for this place, and Georges will probably explain it in more details later.
                  However, I shall use this as an opportunity to introduce a character who soon became a close ally in our explorations of this universe.
                  As a matter of fact, I came as a surprise to both of us when she started to pierce through Georges disguise, flawless as it may have been. We found out that they shared a connection which probably was the cause for their allowance of connection through the veils of their disguises in time and space.
                  A rather elegant member of the Quorum of Twelve, Cil —as she is named, pronounced See’l — intuitively found out that we were not really who we claimed to be, especially that we were not from her known universe at all. But what could have been a difficult situation turned out for the best, as she was equally eager to discover about us, as we were about her people and universe.

                  The recent reports of uprisings of the Zentauras was the matter which was seriously discussed, and it was decided as a favour from Noraam to Cil to allow her to go for an investigation on the Murtuane, to find out the reasons for this matter, if not the culprits among their kin.
                  Needless to say that I was very much enthusiastic at the idea of having a guide to explain me more on the relationships at play…

                  (Part 2)

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